


i can drive you wild all night

by iaintinapatientphase



Series: maybe you and me should hang out some more [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaintinapatientphase/pseuds/iaintinapatientphase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You think you have a shot?”</p><p>“Dude, I cannot continue to live my life without having fucked that girl.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can drive you wild all night

**Author's Note:**

> this is total self indulgent garbage with a very important message: eliza is super hot.
> 
> title from "the club" from "in the heights." please use lmm at his Most Unchill as inspiration for your reading pleasure.
> 
> inspired by [nk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/interim/pseuds/interim), enabled by [madeline](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshine_queen/pseuds/derevko).
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://iaintinapatientphase.tumblr.com/).

“Holy shit, dude.”

“What?”

Alex hits Hercules on the arm a couple times without tearing his eyes away from whatever he's gawking at. “Look at that girl over there.”

“Alex, there’s like fifty girls over everywhere. Specifics.”

He scoffs incredulously. “Okay but I’m talking about _that_  one. The hot one. In the dress. By the bar.”

Hercules follows Alex’s drunken, unsubtle staring and tries to pick out which of the many girls in dresses by the bar he’s talking about. One with dark hair sucks the remnants of her drink through a straw and Alex makes some kind of choked off noise. That one, then. The one in the shimmering white dress with the deep neckline and clearly no bra.

“I see,” he says, and he does. She's gorgeous.

“I am taking that girl home tonight, Herc, I swear to God,” Alex says, still staring. “I mean _look_  at her. Jesus _Christ_.”

“I do see what you mean,” Hercules agrees. “But I thought this was supposed to be a friends night to celebrate Laf returning from the summer in France, not —”

He trails off. Alex is blatantly not listening, instead staring with saucer wide eyes as the girl takes a shot from her friend, bracelets slipping down her wrist.

“Holy fuck,” he says, awe struck, muttering some kind of rushed, surely disgusting commentary Hercules thanks God he can’t make out as he watches the girl tilt her head back to drink and wipe one hand carelessly across her shining mouth. “I mean holy shit. She’s not with anyone, right? I’m pretty sure those are just her friends she’s with, not like a girlfriend or anything. And she hasn’t really been talking to any guys. She looks like she wants to, though. I can tell. She’s here to get laid.”

“You think you have a shot?”

“Dude, I cannot continue to live my life without having fucked that girl.” He finishes his drink, squints a little. “The slit on that dress is really high. Do you think she’s wearing underwear? Maybe just that tiny lace shit. Fuck. Maybe she’s not wearing any. She’s definitely not wearing a bra, look how low cut that is, it’s barely covering anything. I could just get her over there on the side of the bar and —”

“Jesus, Ham. You know you have to actually talk to her first?”

“Where do you think I’m going?” he says, waves an arm vaguely as he stands up, more steadily and less apparently drunk than his filthy filterless mouth would indicate. “Wish me luck.”

“Yeah, you’ll need it,” Hercules says to his back.

Alex saunters up to the girl, in that really showy, arrogant way he can only really achieve when he’s just won something or has been drinking, and Hercules would bet any amount of money that this is going to be a disaster.

“Yo,” he calls to Laf and Laurens, stacking empty shot glasses into pyramids on the table. “Come watch Ham try to hit on this girl.”

The other two scramble up and crowd around to watch, and Hercules thinks absently that if the girl sees the peanut gallery she’ll probably laugh in Ham’s face.

She isn’t laughing, though, she’s watching Alex buy them both drinks. She takes hers and nods while Alex waves his hands around, bouncing up and down a little as he runs his mouth, saying something dumb.

“Ten bucks she leaves as soon as she finishes that drink,” Laurens says.

Lafayette laughs. “Twenty she leaves in thirty seconds. Adrienne has a bag that looks like that one. It costs like four grand. No way she talks to Hammy for more than three minutes.”

“Look.” Hercules points, then abruptly drops his hand when his alcohol addled brain remembers that maybe that’s rude. “She’s into him.”

All three watch in stunned silence as Alex grabs her free hand and bends slightly to kiss it, like some ridiculous character in a Jane Austen novel. No — a bad actor in a Lifetime adaptation of a Jane Austen novel. The girl is smiling, she's not pulling away, she's saying something that makes Alex smile back.

“My god,” Laf says. “She is.”

The girl steps closer to Alex, tilts her head in to listen to whatever he’s saying. She laughs, again, while Alex’s hand comes up to rest on her lower back, pressing her in even closer.

“Holy… shit….” Laurens shakes his head. “It’s working? That works for him?”

“I cannot believe,” Hercules says as Alex whispers something in her ear and gets a quick nod in return. “I cannot.”

Alex throws a wink and a wide grin over his shoulder as he follows the girl out of the bar.

\---------

Alex is generally good with women. He knows them, he knows what they like.

He didn’t know he was _this_ good, though.

The hot girl from across the bar is even better looking up close, all black eyes and shiny hair and so, so much soft looking skin it makes his palms itch, aching to touch. He can also see down her dress from this close, which is awesome. She can definitely tell and is looking up at him — just a bit, she’s got high shoes on and Alex is realistic about his height — with a secretive looking smile in the corner of her mouth. She's into it. She's into him.

He’s going to do something stupid and rash, like kiss her before he gets her name, if he doesn’t stop looking at her, so he turns quickly to the bar. “Bartender! Sir! Can I get another rum and coke and a —” he turns back to the girl. “What are you drinking?”

“Vodka cranberry, please.”

“And a vodka cranberry, please,” he adds, digging out his credit card and sliding it over, scrawls a tip that he probably can’t afford and hands the girl her drink, watches the way the light bounces off her bracelet and the shiny fabric of her dress and across her skin all the way down her long legs.

“Thank you,” she says. Alex drags his eyes back up and she’s smirking a little, lips wrapped around her straw.

“Anyway, do you come here often?” he says rapidly. “I don’t usually come out to clubs like this, but my friend just got back in town and wanted to celebrate, or whatever. They’re not my favorite. I usually like places with actual dance floors and not sticky messes filled with tourists in cargo shorts. But it’s worth it, for giving me the chance to meet such a truly stunning person such as yourself. Like, wow. How are you so pretty? I’m Alex, by the way. Short for Alexander. What’s your name?”

“Eliza. Short for Elizabeth. It’s very nice to meet you, Alexander,” she says. She has a really nice voice, clear like a bell and a smile bleeding out of the edges. He wants her to say his name again, wants to hear her say it low in his ear while he gets a hand up her wonderfully pitiful excuse for a dress.

“Eliza,” he repeats, and she smiles. In a rush of inspiration, he takes her free hand, a few delicate rings catching the light, and kisses it, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time. Romantic. Women love that stuff. Eliza is no different, she flushes slightly under the dancing lights, spreading across her cheeks and down her neck and lower. He watches, enthralled. He wants to see her do that again, how far down her body it goes, how deep that shade of pink can get.

“Anyway. Wow. It is very nice to meet you, Eliza.”

Eliza laughs and wow, she’s gotten very close. He spreads his free hand across her lower back, tips of his fingers fitting into the dimples that he can feel through the thin fabric of her dress, resists the urge to pull her flush against him, push her back against the bar and get her dress out of the way and her legs around his waist. She’s into it, though, quite obviously, tilting her hips closer to his, fingers resting delicately on his other hand. Jesus Christ, he’s really gonna fuck this girl. Holy shit.

“Do you wanna dance, or something?” Alex tries.

She laughs, bats her eyes a little and finishes her drink. “Or something, yes.”

He leans in, brushes his lips against her ear. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Alex _knows_ she’s going to say yes, but her nod is still so, so incredibly satisfying to see. “I’m only a half mile away, come back to mine?” she asks.

“Absolutely. Lead the way,” he says, and follows her out of the bar, grins triumphantly at his friends. They better be ready to spend whatever money they won betting on him on his victory lunch tomorrow.

The cool air is a shock after the heat of the club, and it takes him a second to realize that she’s talking to him when she’s saying something about an Uber and six minutes.

“Wait, what?” he asks.

“I called an Uber. It’ll be here in —” she looks down at her phone, frowns. “Seven minutes. He went down the wrong street.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to worry about,” he says, grabs her hand and tugs her over to the little alley on the side of the club. “We can wait.”

“Oh, we can?” she says, leans back against the wall and pulls him in close.

Alex is sure he has something witty to say if he wanted, but it can wait. Kissing her cannot. So he does, one hand sweeping up the curve of her jaw and the other riding low on her hip while her lips curve up under his.

He runs a hand down her neck and over her collarbones and down to all that skin exposed by the deep v of her dress, spreading his fingers so the tip of his thumb just nudges under the fabric. Eliza sighs appreciatively, slips her hands into his back pockets and shifts a little so he can lean in further, every inch of her body pressed to his. He can feel her breath heaving in her chest as he slides his hand in further and rubs over her nipple lightly, practically ceases to exist when Eliza makes a low sound in the back of her throat and digs her teeth into his lower lip, tugs a little. Holy shit, this is incredible. He tilts her head back a little with his free hand so he can kiss her deeper, his tongue in her mouth as he pushes a leg between hers and she groans against his lips.

A sudden vibrating sound jolts him out of it a minute or hour or day later, who knows or cares, and she's pulling her hand out of his hair and pushing him away enough to answer her phone. “Hello?” she says breathlessly, which Alex could get off to right here if he tried. “Yeah, we're right here. One sec.” She looks up, eyes wide and lips swollen and good god, he still can't believe he's about to fuck this girl. “Car’s here. You're coming over, right?”

Alex nods quickly, lets her pull him out of the alley and into the back seat. “Absofuckinglutely.” He's pretty sure he might be in love.

\---------

Eliza is fairly certain that she’s somehow on a date with last week’s one night stand.

Alex (as she’s calling him now, even though she kind of liked using his full name the other night, liked the _xander_ and the history of it, but it’s not like she’s ever going to see him again) had invited her out for a drink. Well, he had texted her about fifty times in the four days (and she had texted him back each time, her brain unhelpfully reminds her) between when she finally kicked him out of her apartment and when she agreed to meet him for said drink at what she thought was a little bar downtown.

It’s not that the other night wasn’t good. It was extremely good, in fact. Better than she hoped for. She had gone out intending to get laid, and was all for it when Alexander approached her, a little drunk and a lot manic and very clearly staring at her chest. She liked how straightforward he was, asking her if she wanted to get out of there barely ten minutes later, getting her pressed up against the wall in the alleyway and kissing her until she wasn’t sure her legs could hold her up any longer, sliding his hands up her skirt in the back of the cab and grinning when she had to bite back a gasp into his shoulder.

Eliza liked him a lot, actually, more than she likes most guys she sleeps with casually. Very enthusiastic. They had barely gotten into her apartment before he dragged her onto the closest horizontal surface — her couch, with her discarded outfits for _Operation Get Eliza Laid_ still strewn over it — and was fucking her, with none of that fake hesitancy of first times, just slow and deep and really, really good. Talked a lot, which she hasn't historically been super into, but she found herself enjoying, like, _really_ enjoying, his stream of mild filth in her ear — _fuck, Eliza, you feel so fucking good, tell me what you want I wanna make you come, come on my cock holy shit, Eliza, Eliza, Eliza_. She didn't get out of her dress until after, but he didn't seem to mind.

Alexander was a quick study of what she liked and what she really, really liked, that mouth only shutting up to do some truly incredible things between her thighs until she couldn't sit up. He was sweet, almost, played with her hair while she caught her breath, her head resting in his lap until she felt him getting hard again. He had looked up at her with starry eyes and a choked off whine when she climbed on top for round two.

But that was supposed to be it. She’s busy, things have been crazy at work lately, and she was bored of her vibrator and not looking for anything serious when she invited him over that night. Alexander, with his stupid-cute smile and surprisingly soft golden skin, was not supposed to ever be seen again. She had expected him to sneak out after she fell asleep, not be there in the morning with his arm tight around her waist and her head on his shoulder. But when she poked him awake to kick him out he had smiled and kissed her and it was really, really good, and then fucking him again was great, and the extremely vocal appreciation she got when she sucked him off in the shower was really very nice as well.

She finally kicked him out somewhere around eleven, after they ordered pancakes and ate in a kind of sexed-out daze on her couch, him still in just a towel and her in her underwear and a t-shirt. He had asked for her number as what she thought was a formality, a way to be polite after going home with a girl who's last name he didn't know and barely said five words to him before asking him back to her apartment.

Eliza found out how very real his intentions were in the days to follow. _Hi, I had a great time last night, like, really, great, you're incredible, can I see you again?_ And again, and again, polite but persistent. She could have told him to fuck off, and she's sure he would have. For all the obscenities he whispered in her ear, he practically radiates decency. But Eliza found herself kind of intrigued and more than a little flattered by how into her he was. She was free tonight, and who is she to say no to a drink and multiple orgasms?

Be that as it may, she had not certainly intended to be sitting across from him at an expensive Asian fusion place in a dress that even Peggy once called “an affront to the concept of modesty.” It was supposed to be a quick drink before going back to her place — or his, maybe, she’s not sure where he lives — for a repeat performance of the other night. She’s not even wearing underwear, for fucks sake, and she's pretty sure their waiter can tell. She knows Alexander can, if the way his mouth went entirely slack and he stopped being able to talk until she was sitting down again was any indication.

Alexander, on the other hand, is wearing a very nice sweater and his hair is tied back neatly. He looks good tonight — a bit stiffer and quieter than he was drunk, the eye bags significantly smaller than they were when he was hungover. He’s looking very seriously at the menu like this is a real date or something.

“I think I might get the flounder ceviche. We could get an appetizer, too, do you like mushrooms? We could share, if you want,” he offers, finally looking up.

Eliza takes another sip of her drink, which is already running tragically low. “Um. That sounds good.”

“Cool. I haven’t been here before, but my friend has, and he said that it was really good,” he says and puts his menu down. “So. You said you were busy with work this week? What do you do?”

 _What does she do?_  “Is this a date?” she asks abruptly.

“Uh.” Alexander blinks, clearly taken aback. “Yes? I thought so?”

“Oh.”

“Did you... not think it was?” he asks hesitantly.

“I thought we were just getting a drink,” Eliza says bluntly. “Like, a quick drink before back to my place again kind of thing.”

“Oh,” he says, brow furrowed like he’s not sure what she means. “Sorry?”

“It’s fine, don’t apologize.”

“I mean, we can do that,” Alexander says quickly. “If you want. I am definitely, one hundred percent, completely on board with that plan. I just thought —”

“No, it’s fine, it’s a date, I don’t mind. But you should have said,” she says, feeling embarrassed. “I didn’t know. I’m not like, dressed for it.”

“You look awesome. Like, really good,” he says, nodding quickly. “Really, really good.”

“Thanks.” Eliza looks down to hide the blush she can feel spreading across her cheeks. She's glad he likes it. “But this isn’t a date outfit. It’s a maybe-having-sex-in-the-bathroom outfit. Not at all appropriate for this.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, sitting up straighter. “Wow. Well, can it be a date now? Because I think I love you.”

Eliza stares at him, shocked, forces herself to shut her mouth. _Love_? What the fuck? She should probably go, shouldn’t she? He’s obviously unbalanced, or something. “Uh —”

“Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean that!” Alexander runs a hand through his hair anxiously. “I mean not that like. I don’t like you? But that was kind of a knee-jerk, lower brain reaction to the whole, you know, sex in the bathroom thing. Which again, I am totally down if you are.”

“I —” She bites her lip at the last second, because apparently she is _very_ down for that. It's all she can think about, really, how badly she wants him to fuck her on the gross bathroom counter, hands all over and voice in her ear. It's honestly indecent and very unexpected.

He's still rambling, however. “But I actually really do think that you seem very cool, and I’d like to get to know you better. Which is why I intended this to be a date. But it’s up to you. No pressure, or anything, absolutely not.”

Alexander looks very flustered and a lot embarrassed and very cute, Eliza muses. He looks good in that sweater, too. He didn’t have to buy her dinner to get her out of her dress again, but it’s nice that he asked. He seems decent enough, like he did the other night. He might be a little crazy, but in the same way Angelica can be. Type-A, neurotic, not serial killer crazy. Worst case, she has a meal and maybe a few more orgasms and then for real never sees him again.

“It can be a date,” she offers casually, opening up her menu again to hide a smile. “What were you saying about ceviche?”


End file.
